Ella
Inside the confines of the counsel chambers, the atmosphere was saturated with apprehension. Heavy curtains blocked the outside world, leaving the room bathed in a warm, golden glow. Oak bookshelves, lined with hefty legal volumes, lined the walls.
Between Mr. Grayson and myself sat a polished mahogany table, its surface gleaming in the soft light.
“This is a… shock, to say the least,” Mr. Grayson said, fidgeting with the cufflinks of his pristine white shirt. “Mr. Barret, if I may ask: what changed your mind?”
Logan smirked. “I like to keep some things close to my chest, Mr. Grayson,” he said, shooting me a sideways glance. “But know this: I am being genuine. No strings attached.”
Mr. Grayson shot me a look, silently asking if Logan was telling the truth.
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